


I'm Sorry, Did You Say Doctor?

by matchst_ck



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Animals, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Domestic Mickey Milkovich, EMT!Ian, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Mickey and Ian should always be happy beans, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Rimming, Romance, Sexual Content, The Smartest Cat, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Veterinarian!Mickey, Veterinary Clinic, Veterinary Medicine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 16:19:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9556919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchst_ck/pseuds/matchst_ck
Summary: “Fuck are you all doing? What is this, some kind of circle jerk?” An eyebrow shoots up into his hairline as he looks them all over. His eyes land on Ian, he tilts his chin in his direction. “That cat in need of medical attention?”“Er---” Ian attempts coherent speech. “No? I don’t think so. He just went miss---” He’s cut off as the guy nods.“Good to hear. What are the rest of you standing around for then? You think we haven’t got a load of shit to do? Back to it.”---Mickey is the local vet in Ian's new town and Ian thinks his beloved cat might just be due for a check-up. Or the veterinary AU that no one asked for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure what to say about this to be honest, I enjoyed writing it though. It was nice to take the boys out of their canon setting and enjoy writing a slightly more laidback side to them (I think I just wanted to give them a fluffy break). Please note, there is a very short reference to an act of animal cruelty so please bear that in mind.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy and I would love to hear what you think :)

“Tips?”

“Tips?”

“TIPS!”

Ian finds himself darting from room to room, stepping over half empty (or full, forever the optimist) boxes full of clothes, and pots, and miscellaneous items – and what the hell is in that box anyway? – but still, no sign of Tips.

It’s not until he gets to his bedroom that he notices the open window to the balcony and fire escape. His heart beats twice as hard and he thinks he might be sick on the new shag carpet.

“Oh God, stupid cat – you don’t know the neighbourhood!” Frantic, he throws his apartment door open, and hot foots it down the stairs.

By the time he gets outside he’s panting but his legs keep moving, turning left as he gets outside. He figures he lives on a square block, he’ll do a round and hopefully he’ll find Tips sniffing around a mailbox. He likes to do that, Ian’s never understood it but he doesn’t question it. Was probably a mail cat in a previous life, delivering catnip to all the neighbourhood ca---

Ian shakes his head before he can take the ridiculous thought any further. He’s getting more and more worried, they’ve only just moved and Ian hasn’t had chance to take Tips around the neighbourhood yet. What if he’s tried to cross the road? What if he’s been catnapped? What if he’s tried to make his way back to the Southside? Ian’s moved them both out to Indiana with work, for a fresh start, Tips doesn’t know just how far he’s come.

Ian has to stop running just to catch his breath. He looks up to find himself outside a tidy looking two storey building.

“ _Paws ‘n’ Claws Veterinary clinic_ \---” He murmurs out loud to himself, eyeing the black and white sign dotted in paw prints. He suddenly has a lightbulb moment. They might have seen his cat! He wanders in, it’s dark out but it’s not too late, around 7pm. The lights are on so Ian hopes that the clinic is open.

What he sees makes his breath catch whilst he simultaneously bursts out laughing. Part humour, part relief. 

There in the middle of the waiting room is Tips. His tail is low and fluffed and Ian can see his tiny teeth poking out in a hiss. He’s surrounded by three people, all with their hands out in silent surrender. He takes pity on them quickly. That and he wants his cat back. He loves that little guy.

“Tips!” The cat immediately turns, spots Ian and does a 180 degree personality makeover. His tail smooths and starts to gently sway and he meows loudly before running at Ian, leaping into open arms and snuggling into him in the best version of a cat cuddle he can without opposable thumbs.

Ian runs his hand down his back over and over again, smoothing the fur there as the other holds Tips up by his furry ass. He keeps pressing his lips behind his ears, murmuring to him. _‘Stupid cat, don’t ever do that to me again. I almost had a damn heart attack’._

It takes Ian a good couple of minutes before he realises that he’s being stared at by the three other people in the room. He coughs, clears his throat but doesn’t loosen his grip on Tips. Adorable little bugger, he might not let him go all night.

“Erm, hey. Sorry about that. Left a window open and he got out.” He shrugs his free shoulder.

The dark haired woman approaches him but halts in her step when she hears Tips hiss over Ian’s shoulder.

“No worries---?” She smiles raising an eyebrow.

“Ian.” He reaches his hand out, far enough for her to shake without Tips getting his back up. “And this is Tips.” He grins, she nods her head.

“Figured as much.” She chuckles. “I’m Mandy, resident receptionist. And this---” She waves behind her, first at the slightly scruffy looking blonde “-is Iggy.” She waves her hand again at the rather stern faced woman farthest to her right “And that’s Svetlana. Iggy’s the veterinary nurse – yeah I know, looks can be deceiving. And Svetlana’s his--- wait, why are you here again?” 

Ian thinks she’s asking him for a second before she turns to Svetlana who crosses her arms, making Ian feel like he’s done something wrong, what with the look she’s giving him. 

“I come to meet him---” She shakes a hand at Iggy. Ian assumes they must be together. “We go out for dinner but then this thing come in.” At that, Ian rubs a hand around Tips’ neck protectively. “And hiss and spit. Why your cat so angry?” She asks him. 

Ian feels his face heat, creeping up his ears. “Yeah, look I’m sorry about that. He’s… he’s not great with other people. He was a rescue and it took me forever to get him to trust me.” He kisses him again, remembering. 

“Then why you let him go missing!” Svetlana asks him, angrily. 

“I didn’t let him!” Ian pushes back, annoyed at the implication. “I accidentally left a window open and he got out. It wasn’t on purpose.”

“OK Svet, calm down alright.” Iggy walks up to her, puts what he thinks is soothing hand out. It seems to work, she breathes heavily through her nose but goes quiet. 

It’s then that they all turn when they hear a door open and Ian watches as a door to the side of the reception desk bangs open. Out walks a slightly short - but Ian’s not judging, not when his own mouth is so wide open he could catch many a fly – angry looking guy. Angry he may be, but that soft looking, jet black hair and those stunning blue eyes are causing Ian’s insides to heat. The guy stops short of everyone, arms crossing over his chest pulling his purple scrubs tight.

Ian has to swallow.

“Fuck are you all doing? What is this, some kind of circle jerk?” An eyebrow shoots up into his hairline as he looks them all over. His eyes land on Ian, he tilts his chin in his direction. “That cat in need of medical attention?”

“Er---” Ian attempts coherent speech. “No? I don’t think so. He just went miss---” He’s cut off as the guy nods.

“Good to hear. What are the rest of you standing around for then? You think we haven’t got a load of shit to do? Back to it.”

And with that, he heads straight back from wherever he came and Ian watches his ass the whole way. He waits until they all turn to face him again, shaking their heads but seemingly not perturbed by this guy and his colourful language. He feels safe enough to ask.

“So---who was that?” His eyes flick back over to the door, back to the others.

“That---” they all sigh, “was Dr Milkovich.”

\---

Ian’s half-awake days later mulling over the fact that his local vet was hot as shit. Angry, but hot as shit. _Dr Milkovich_ as it turned out was the head veterinary doctor at the clinic. Well, the only one really. Mandy had explained before he’d left, that he’d taken over the place a year before when the other vet had retired, the clinic had turned into a family affair between the three siblings. The town residents loved their pets but there weren’t all that many of them, there was no need for more than one vet. 

Ian had made an appointment with Mandy there and then. Tips obviously needed a new vet right? Check him over, make sure he’d survived the move intact, no bumps or bruises. Mandy had looked at him like he was as transparent as wet tissue paper but had made him an appointment none the less.

Today was the day he’d see Dr Milkovich again. 

Tips.

Tips would see Dr Milkovich.

(But so would Ian and hooray, that made this Monday _all_ the better.)

As he’s contemplating the fact that he’s going to have to get up, give himself time to actually wake up and dress casual - decent but casual (don’t try too hard Ian, you’ll scare him off) – he hears a soft thump on the bed and a persistent paw starts to bat him in the face.

He lets it happen a few more times before he grasps the swatting paw gently between his fingers. “Yeah, morning Tips. I’m up, I’m up.” His voice is groggy, first words of the day always are. He blinks bleary eyes open to find Tips licking himself.

He sits up, kisses him on the head and slides out of bed and heads to the shower, tripping over boxes as he goes. He stands on a knitted mouse on the way, slightly damp under foot from Tips’ mouth but he doesn’t let it deter him.

Today is going to be a good day. 

\---

He’s at the clinic early, as always. He doesn’t like to be late for things. Especially things like beautiful veterinary doctors in slightly too tight scrubs. He’s sat on a comfy looking chair in the reception area, Tips in his actual cat box this time chilling out to his side.

Mandy’s behind the reception desk this time, shooting him the occasional smile when they catch each other’s eyes. There’s only one other person waiting, an older lady with a dog that looks like he sleeps ninety percent of the day away every day, snoring on the floor.

Ian shoots up in his seat when he hears the side door open. He watches, breath held as Dr Milkovich comes out with a clipboard in hand.

“Tips and---Mr Gallagher?” Dr Milkovich looks up and catches his eye. He thinks he sees his eyes widen a little in recognition from the other night, but he’s up and headed over before he can think on it. 

He watches as Dr Milkovich raises one of those expressive eyebrows again. “You might want to bring the cat?” He nods behind Ian.

Ian whips around, realising he’s left Tips on the chair. “Oh---shit.” He rushes back feeling all sorts of stupid and grabs the box roughly. He apologises quietly as he hears Tips yell a meow at the rough handling. He turns back to the Doctor. “Erm, sorry about that.”

He thinks he sees Dr Milkovich smile as he murmurs his assent before turning and heading into the back, Ian hot on his heels. They end up in a small, cosy examination room with an off kilter poster of a sad looking dog surrounded by the words _‘Got Fleas?’_. Ian puts Tips down on the table in the middle, standing on one side as the Doctor heads to the other.

“OK, so this is Tips?” Dr Milkovich looks down to his clipboard to check that he’s got the name right again Ian assumes, before he leans down to look into the box. He moves a tattooed (Ian had missed that initially and _oh_ that is deliciously vulgar) hand over to open it when Ian interrupts.

“Yeah, but Dr Milkovich he can be---”

“Mickey.”

“Huh?”

Eloquent Ian, eloquent.

“Mickey. My name?” _Mickey_ shrugs, pausing in opening Tips' box. “Dr Milkovich makes me feel---old.”

Ian chuckles at that but nods. “OK. Mickey.” He smiles, tries to temper it before he remembers what he was trying to say. “I was just going to say Tips can be---well, temperamental? He doesn’t really like, erm, anyone.”

“Except you?” And Mickey really does smile at him then. “Mandy tells me you got him from a rescue?”

Ian rubs the back of his neck at the warm smile Mickey’s giving him. “Yeah, yeah I did.” He watches as Mickey opens the door of Tips’ box, moves his hand back to let the cat out in his own time. “Needed some---companionship.” Ian remembers that time. He’d finally settled with his meds and he was living his life but he was lonely. Someone at work had recommended a cat for company. “Walked in and Tips hissed at me, walked up to his cage and he goes for me even with the door closed. The girl tells me how he’s been going for all the other cats, all the employees. Left no one unscathed,” He chuckles. “Always was a sucker for a redemption tale. Took weeks before he trusted me fully though.”

They both watch as Tips exits slowly, one tentative paw first before his nose and whiskers peek out. He seems to spot Ian and trots out happily, his back to Mickey as he sits looking up at Ian who smiles at him. “Hey boy,” his hands come up and he rubs his fingers over Tips' ears, eliciting a pleased rumble from the creature. He looks up at Mickey and grins. “They hadn’t named him yet, they weren’t sure they were going to keep him ‘cause of his behaviour. Took one look at him and figured Tips was good.”

They both look down at Ian’s fingers, rubbing over the white ears on the all black cat. 

“Makes sense,” Mickey smiles.

Tips seems to register the fact that Mickey is there and turns quickly at the sound of his voice. As soon as he lays eyes on him, he hisses, back arching a little as his ears start to flatten. Ian starts to get nervous, tries to speak but Mickey raises a hand to quiet him. Ian hesitates but chooses to watch.

Mickey places each hand on the table, spread either side of the cat but not close enough to get scratched. He leans down a little and just stares at Tips who continues to hiss at him. Ian’s holding his breath entirely unsure what’s going to happen, but really hoping his beloved cat doesn’t attack his new crush.

Tips hisses again, yowls a couple of times but still Mickey stares, stern face but blue eyes soft, blinking slowly but persistently at the cat. There are long minutes of silent staring between the two before Ian realises that Tips has relaxed, arched back and angry tail fluff all but gone. His ears soften slowly, flick back up to their normal pointed selves and Ian gasps.

“What the fuck? How did you do that?” He’s shocked. Tips has never calmed that quickly for anyone except for Ian, _ever_. 

“What can I say?” Mickey grins, reaching his hand out slowly, low to the table with an open palm, for Tips to sniff. He deems it safe enough and only side eyes Mickey a little when he scritches at the side of his neck. “Got a way with animals.”

(It’s not just animals, Ian thinks, but manages to keep that thought to himself.)

Once Mickey has gained enough of Tips’ trust to be able to touch him, he starts giving him the once over. He stretches his legs out gently, movements slow so he doesn’t startle him. Feels the cat all over, smooths his hand over Tips’ tail which gets him a pleasurable purr that makes Ian laugh. He gently, very gently presses on Tips’ paws to reveal his claws, giving them a look over before nodding.

He slips his hands around Tips’ middle, turns quickly and drops him onto the weighing scales, making a mental note before he brings him back to the table and writes it down on his clipboard. It’s all done so quickly Tips doesn’t seem to have the time – or the inclination, Ian notes – to complain.

Mickey whips out a small torch then, shining it quickly in Tips’ eyes before he grabs a small cotton ball and rubs it over the corner of his eye. It seems to pull away some moisture but Mickey doesn’t seem worried about it.

“Your cat---” Mickey says as he raises the hand holding the cotton ball. “Seems to be in tip top condition.” He flicks his hand then, releasing the cotton ball which Ian watches fly through the air, missing the waste basket by inches. 

Mickey sighs but before either of them can move for it, they watch as Tips hops down from the examination table, walks over to the cotton ball, picks it up in his teeth and saunters back over to the table. He wiggles a little on his back legs, jumps and lands on the table with a gentle thump before proudly presenting Mickey with the cotton ball.

Ian laughs as he watches both Mickey’s eyebrows raise as he takes the offered present. 

“What the hell?” He laughs heartily, looking up at Ian.

“Yeah he does that. Loves a good game of fetch, don’t you Tips?” Ian scrubs his fingers over his head, the cat’s eyes closing in pleasure. “Think he might’ve been a---” His voice drops to a whisper “D-O-G in a previous life.”

Mickey grins at him all wide, soft lips and straight teeth, and proceeds to pick the cotton ball up again, throwing it and looking so entertained when Tips brings it back that he does it again, three more times.

He looks so happy. Ian’s heart beats double time.

\---

Ian walks in to his apartment, flicking the top button of his uniform open as he stretches aching limbs. The town might be quiet but being an EMT on a ten hour shift was still a fuck load of work. He was looking forward to falling face first into bed.

He looks around for his cat but he’s no-where to be seen. Ian’s not worried, he heads to the kitchen to pour some cat biscuits into the empty bowl ready for Tips’ return. It’s been six weeks and he’s taken Tips out and about enough that he’s slowly acclimatised to the neighbourhood. He wanders out the balcony window and off the fire escape and back in himself now with no trouble like he used to do in his old apartment. 

(The only difference now is that Tips doesn’t bring him presents back, which Ian isn’t going to complain about. He’s seen enough dead mice and half mangled birds for a lifetime thank you. _Oh, thank you Tips, that’s so nice of you Tips, what a wonderful dead rodent Tips, you’re such a good boy Tips_.) 

He sighs as he flops down to the bed, shucking his uniform as he goes. Tomorrow is a well-earned day off and he contemplates what he’s going to do with it. He contemplates what other concocted story he can come up with this time to visit Mickey again.

Ian, as it turns out, is about as tenacious as a dog with the juiciest of bones. He knows this about himself of course, but chooses to see it as a positive attribute (and ignores anyone that doesn’t). He’s come up with so many excuses to see Mickey that he’s surprised Mickey hasn’t banned him from the clinic with the only exception being imminent death (to Tips, not him of course).

First it was about Tips’ food - he wasn’t eating as much? Was that normal? Should Ian do anything differently? What kinda food do you like Mickey? 

_Mickey had reassured him Tips was going to be OK, had grinned at that last one. Told him pancakes. ‘Pancakes at any time of the day.’_

Then it was about taking Tips outside – are there any unsafe places nearby he should look out for? Would Tips be OK with any of the local animals? Do you have any animals Mickey?

_‘A cat, a dog and a whole bunch of fish – don’t ask me how, I don’t even like fish.’_

Ian was averaging one visit a week and Mickey hadn’t even seen Tips since that first visit. The last time he’d turned up Mickey had just laughed, waved him on through the back before he could even ask anything and set him to work feeding the recovering animals. Mickey sat nearby writing up his notes quietly, looking up at him through those dark lashes. 

‘ _‘You’re here enough Gallagher, might as well put you to work. Consider it volunteer work, s’good for your soul.’_

Ian lays back, drums his fingers over his sternum as he thinks. He was normally full of ideas but aside from asking Mickey outright on a date – and he still wasn’t sure he wouldn’t get laughed at or punched in the face for that one – he doesn’t know what more he can ask him. 

He hears a rustle at the window and turns to find Tips squeezing through the gap. He drops down to the desk under the window before he makes his way over to Ian on the bed. That’s when Ian spots whatever it is that Tips is carrying in his mouth. 

He hopes to God it isn’t a dead animal.

Tips drops his goods into Ian’s lap as he stretches his paws out against Ian’s legs, before turning in a circle and curling up. Ian’s sigh of relief is palpable as he picks up what looks to be a folded piece of paper. Curious, he opens it up before dropping a hand to Tips’ fur, stroking gratefully.

“Thank you Tips, what’s this you’ve got for me?” His eyes scan the paper.

Ian gasps out loud when he realises what it is.

_Gallagher,_

_Hoping this will get back to you via your damn cat (don’t get me wrong, he’s brilliant.) Over the past three weeks he’s come in to the clinic and dropped off:_

_Two dead mice (Mandy screamed, it was fucking hilarious)_  
_A bunch of feathers (possibly a pigeon, DNA is yet to come back)_  
_Half a grass snake (he tried eating that one, not gonna lie, it was kinda gross)_

_I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it and I tried not to praise him but he looked at me with those fucking eyes and I couldn’t help it. Decided to try giving him this note, see how strong his ‘fetch’ game really is._

_Mickey._

_PS. I’m joking about that DNA thing too, this isn’t an episode of CSI._

Ian bursts out laughing, apologising when it disturbs the resting feline at his side. He rubs his ears in apology. 

“You. Are. The. Best. Cat. Ever. And I love you Tips.” He kisses him on the head before sliding from under him, heading to his desk and ripping out a bit of notepad paper. He begins to scribble a note as Tips yawns, heads off to the kitchen to eat his biscuits.

Ian makes a mental note to get him some treats. Cat’s going to have his work cut out for him. 

\---

They’ve been exchanging notes back and forth for about three days now. Tips (Ian thinks about renaming him, _the matchmaker_ ) doesn’t seem at all bothered by his promotion to messenger cat, there was only one occasion that he looked at Ian as if to say he wasn’t some kind of carrier pigeon but he soon relented when presented with a smidge of frozen salmon (Ian wasn’t made of money, fresh was a little out of his league).

Ian’s worried now though. That last note he sent Mickey was a little forward. Quite forward. More forward than any other notes had been. 

_So where’s good to take a guy on a date around here? You got any recommendations?_

It’s not like he’d underlined the guy part, he wasn’t screaming it at Mickey but he most certainly wasn’t hiding it. He hoped Mickey got the insinuation. He hoped this didn’t blow up in his face. He hoped Tips didn’t come back empty mouthed. 

After what felt like forever – Tips had clearly taken the long way around the block – but was probably only an hour or so Tips finally hopped through the window, dropping his precious package onto Ian’s desk.

Ian opened it with shaking hands.

_Where’s good? Depends who you’re taking out Gallagher. Depends if you know what he likes---_

Ian felt the breath rush out of him, relieved. Continued to read.

_and as for a recommendation, if you’re free around 8pm tonight you should check this place out: **Second Floor, 1773 West Willow Street**._

_Don’t be late._

Ian shot up. He only had three hours to get ready.

\---

Ian stands outside 1773 West Willow Street laughing. He pockets the note with the address on, shaking his head as he heads up the steps attached to the side of _Paws ‘n’ Claws_ to the apartment on the second floor. Mickey’s apartment. 

When he reaches the door, he pauses. He checks himself, flattening his dress shirt out over his semi tight jeans. He made good use of that three hours, made the effort, he wants to make a good impression. He brushes his hair back again, it’s getting pretty long but he likes the look of it pushed back (but there’s always that one errant piece, damn it). He checks the time, noting that he’s about ten minutes early but he knocks anyway and attempts to breathe normally.

He hears a voice, Mickey’s voice saying _’chill, chill’_ and there’s some hushing noises and barking before the door creaks open. Ian manages to hold in an audible gasp. 

Mickey’s out of his scrubs and in a soft looking black V-neck tee with a flannel thrown over the top and baggy jeans. His feet are bare and Ian can’t stop staring, his toes are poking out and his feet look ridiculously cute mostly covered by the jeans. His eyes halt coming back up Mickey’s body when he spots the most adorable chocolate Labrador at his legs, tongue lolling out in greeting.

“Hi,” Mickey grins at him when Ian finally manages to look up. “You wanna come in before Porkchop gets out the door?”

Ian smiles as he heads in, watching the dog shuffle backwards, unwilling to look away from the exciting stranger now in his home. Ian reaches out boldly, to Mickey first, tugging on his flannel hem gently.

“Hey.” He grins, happy and wide and Mickey returns it fully. Ian turns his attention to the pooch now rubbing himself up against his legs in excitement. “Hey Porkchop---” His hand comes out, scrubbing gently over the soft fur “-how’d you get such a cool name huh?”

Mickey chuckles as he steps back into the apartment a little. “Rescued him from under a house that was about to be knocked down. Think he’d been dumped by the previous owners. Only thing that would coax him out was a fat porkchop. He gets ‘em as a treat now and then, gotta live up to the name.” 

Ian smiles, rising from petting the dog and looking around. Mickey’s apartment is cluttered but clean and he finds it so… homely. He turns to Mickey who beckons him into the open kitchen and dining area. “Lemme introduce you to the other house residents.” 

“That---” Mickey points and Ian follows his finger to a ginger cat lounging on a dining chair paying them no mind whatsoever “---is Firecrotch.” Ian turns back to him, finding him smirking. “You two will probably get along like a house on fire.”

“Haha, very funny. Already with the ginger jokes.” Ian laughs.

Mickey chuckles, tongue pushing against the side of his lip (attractively, so attractively Ian has to swallow) before he veers off to a corner of the room. “And this---” Mickey gestures to a whole fish tank full of fairly slow moving creatures. “Is fish.”

“Fish?” Ian chuckles, pointing. “You know there’s more than one right?”

“Yeah, can’t be fucked to name ‘em all, how the hell am I meant to remember who’s who – they all look the same.” Mickey turns and Ian realises they’re stood pretty close together now and he shuffles on his feet, eyes darting around the apartment before they land back on Mickey.

“Er, thanks by the way.” He motions with a hand. “For the invite.”

“No problem man, I’m glad you got it. Tips is kinda amazing by the way but he’s super greedy, have to give him a treat every time he turns up at the clinic.” Mickey grins.

“What?” Ian drawls, grinning. “No way, he’s playing you Mick.” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. 

“He’s too fucking adorable, can’t help it.” Mickey smiles before slipping his hands into his pockets, eyes darting around Ian’s face. “So, I’m no culinary master but I was thinking maybe, pancakes?” He smiles, soft and sweet and Ian feels any tension he may have been holding dissipate. He feels easy enough now to ask.

“Pancakes sound great.” He pauses, head tilting, “So, this is a date then?” It’s a question but he sounds hopeful that he’s read the situation right.

He watches as Mickey takes a second, another second before he leans in, hands coming up to grasp the front of Ian’s shirt. Ian’s stock still as Mickey leans up and gently presses closed lips to Ian’s. Their heads tilt, mouths pressing a little harder as Ian’s hands come around to Mickey’s hips, holding steady. 

Their lips smack together a couple of times before they part, faces close together enough to feel the other’s breath. 

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Mickey smiles, one hand coming up to run gentle fingers over Ian’s exposed neck.

Ian smiles wide, presses his lips back to Mickey’s. “Me too.”

Mickey’s pancakes are the best Ian’s ever had.

\---

Three weeks later and Ian’s about to head out on their fourth date. They’re planning on seeing a movie, will wing it after that with no solid plan. Ian’s combing his hair back and running eyes around his room for his wallet only to find Tips sat on it.

“S’cuse me kitty cat.” He tugs it free and opens it up. There’s enough notes in there to cover whatever it is they’re likely going to see but there’s also a couple of condoms and a travel packet of lube. Not that Ian thinks Mickey won’t have his own. Not that he’s certain that’s going to happen tonight (it hasn’t yet and Ian finds he’s OK with that, OK with taking his time with Mickey). He’s hopeful. He’s ready but if Mickey isn’t that’s absolutely fine. It’s different this time, totally different and he wants to wait if Mickey wants to wait.

By the same token though, he’d love to throw Mickey onto that plush bed he’s caught sight of on a couple of occasions when Firecrotch has pushed the door open to Mickey’s room on his wandering around the apartment. 

On that note he heads out of his apartment, kissing Tips goodbye and heading over to Mickey’s. He’s early as always and enjoying the walk now that the evenings have lightened up a touch. He finds himself at Mickey’s in no time, knocking rapidly on the door.

Mickey tugs it open and Ian’s a little surprised to still find him in his scrubs. Mickey motions him in with his hand before he runs it down his face.

“Hey,” Ian reaches a hand out to the short hair on the back of Mickey’s head, running it over the soft strands. “You OK? You look tired, you just got out of the clinic?”

“Yeah, had a bit of a hard time settling one of the dogs that’s just had new pups. She’s still not a hundred percent but we’ve managed to get her settled for the night.” Mickey pinches at the bridge of his nose, breathing out a deep sigh. 

“If you’re tired Mick, we can skip the movie.” Ian runs his hand down to Mickey’s shoulder, squeezing there intermittently. “You want me to make you anything? Anything I can do for you?”

Mickey turns then, reaching a hand up to hold loosely at Ian’s forearm by his shoulder. He eyes Ian for a minute before he speaks. “I am pretty tired.”

Ian nods at that, a little disappointed sure but more worried about Mickey. “I’ll go, we can rearrange. You should get to bed.” He starts to let his hand slip down Mickey’s shoulder and away but the hand holding his forearm grasps more tightly. 

“Mm, I could do that. I _should_ do that.” Mickey smirks, cheeks pinking a little as he bites his lip, pausing for a moment. “But how about you join me instead?” 

It takes Ian a little longer than it should do, admittedly, to quite get what Mickey’s saying but he lights up like a Christmas tree when he cottons on. “Oh. Oh! You sure? Really? I’d love too, can we do that?” Each word brings him a step closer until his hands have slipped around Mickey’s waist and his lips are pressing again and again over his (soon to be) lovers plush ones.

“Yeah, yeah I’d like that. Took you long enough Prince Charming, what were you waiting for the wedding night?” Mickey chuckles, tongue slipping between Ian’s lips as they both start to back up toward the bedroom. 

Ian’s about to let his head explode at the idea of any kind of wedding night with Mickey but he’s distracted by the fact that they’ve both fallen to the bed (which is a plush as it looks). He immediately sits up between Mickey’s legs and tugs his jacket off, throwing it somewhere and only vaguely registering the annoyed meow he gets in return.

Mickey’s laughing until Ian tugs at his scrub pants, tugging them all the way off and pressing his face into his boxer covered erection.

“Fuck, Ian.” Mickey breathes, hands reaching out to run over Ian’s head gently. 

Ian mouths at him through his boxers, breathes in deeply taking in the scent of sweat and strawberry and something a little medicinal but mostly just Mickey. He groans. “Fuck, I love the way you smell.” He looks up to find Mickey’s face has gone quite red, lip caught between his teeth.

“Fuck, get your clothes off Ian, get ‘em off.” He reaches up to help him, undoing his belt as Ian pulls his shirt off. Mickey leans in to lave at a nipple, pulling away only for a second as Ian tugs his top off. Ian moves away, just for a moment and whips his jeans and boxers off in record time before he swings himself back fully onto the bed.

“You’re fucking huge, Jesus.” Mickey’s looking at his cock like it’s the eighth greatest wonder of the world and all Ian can do is moan, hips tilting when Mickey wraps a tattooed hand around him. He tugs and twist his hand at the head before he leans in to press a kiss to the base. “Can’t wait to have this inside me. Ian, I need you to fuck me. Please.” 

He looks up and Ian can’t take it anymore, he pushes Mickey to lay back, hands sliding into his boxers to slip them down and off his legs. He presses kisses to Mickey’s thighs on the way back up, tongue slipping out to slide over his balls as Mickey cusses above him. 

“Ian please, please.” Mickey moans and Ian’s not entirely sure exactly what’s he’s asking for but he’s going to give him all he’s got. 

“I’ve got you Mickey, I’ve got you.” He reaches a hand out, wraps it around Mickey’s leaking cock as he uses his free hand to spread his legs a little further, gives them a little push to give Mickey the hint to lift his hips. 

Ian uses his thumb to pull Mickey’s cheeks apart, exposing his asshole. He leans in, presses a quick swipe of his tongue over the entrance before he pulls back. He knows this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, giving or receiving so he needs to check. “This OK Mickey? Can I?” His other hand is slow on Mickey’s cock but continues to stroke him. 

“Please yes Ian please God.” Mickey’s hands are grasping his pillow but his eyes are on Ian’s and he’s nodding furiously.

Ian grins before diving back in, tongue laving over Mickey’s twitching entrance, making things wet and warm before he tenses his tongue and pushes it inside to a high pitched moan from Mickey. He’s never been averse to rimming, he really enjoys it if he’s honest but with Mickey it’s just better. Mickey tastes divine and Ian can’t get enough but he knows if they want to take this any further he needs to pull back. 

He does, reluctantly but knowing they’re going to be moving onto better things. 

“Fuck Mick, you taste so good.” Ian licks his lips and watches as the blush that’s been lingering on Mickey’s face bursts out again full force, moving all the way up to the tips of his ears. 

“Fuck off,” Mickey laughs, a little embarrassed but happy and motions Ian down to him. “C’mere. Kiss me. Kiss me now.”

Ian acquiesces quickly, dropping down to lay flush against Mickey, chest sliding against chest, cock rubbing against cock in delicious friction. He practically swallows Mickey, all open mouth and spit sharing but Mickey returns the kiss wholeheartedly, hands coming up to grip Ian’s neck.

They pull away eventually but stay close. Mickey reaches a hand under the pillow next to him and pulls out a half full bottle of lube and condom. 

“Inside me, please.” He speaks against Ian’s wet lips.

Ian doesn’t speak but he nods, grabbing for the lube he pulls back and coats a couple of fingers. “You OK like this? On your back?”

When Mickey nods, Ian reaches for a free pillow with his other hand. Mickey takes it and pushes it under his own hips as Ian’s hand falls between his legs, lubed finger circling his entrance. He slips the finger in slowly, watching Mickey’s facial expressions avidly. He moves it slowly as Mickey watches him, gasping a little for breath.

“S’OK, s’good. Been a while but its good. Another.” Mickey practically whispers. 

Ian slips another finger inside him, free hand coming up to tug at his balls gently as he works Mickey open. Before long he’s got Mickey wriggling and writhing beneath him, tugging at his forearms to pull him even closer. Ian pulls away, just enough to grab the condom packet as his fingers slip from Mickey.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Mickey gripes but his face is flushed and he looks happy. 

Ian rips the condom out of the packet and starts to roll it down his own length. “I’m coming Mick.”

“Better fucking not be,” Mickey chuckles at his own joke but it’s soon stifled as Ian presses into him. “Oh fuck, yeah that’s good.”

Ian can absolutely agree but right now he can’t speak, he drops his forehead to Mickey’s as he slides his whole length into him, balls against ass cheeks and _oh fuck_ Mickey is so tight and warm. He tells him this and Mickey groans, bringing hands up to grip Ian’s face. He kisses him once, twice. Tongue wet, licking over lips.

Ian starts to slide in and out, a regular rhythm but its slow and he can feel the push and pull and clench of Mickey’s ass all the way down to his toes. He knows he’s hit the spot when Mickey’s back arches, veins in his neck standing out more prominently. He wraps an arm around Mickey’s waist, tugging him up a little as the other forearm holds himself up and twists his hips on every thrust. He knows he’s not going to last much longer. It’s been too long and Mickey feels too good.

“I’m g’na come Mick. Soon. Sorry.” Ian huffs, pressing his face into Mickey’s neck. 

Mickey rests one hand at the back of his head, the other coming down to his own cock to tug himself off. “Don’t be sorry, s’fucking good. M’close too, can you go harder?”

Ian nods into the sweaty skin, speeds up his hips, balls slapping Mickey’s ass cheeks lewdly on every hard thrust and soon they’re both moaning, long and low and Ian’s pulsing hard into the condom, filling it whilst Mickey comes between them warm and wet. They collapse together in seconds, breathing heavily.

“Fuck,” Mickey sighs happily before he presses his lips to Ian’s sweaty temple. “Why didn’t we do that on the first date?”

Ian manages to choke out a laugh, smiles, squeezing Mickey tighter.

\---

A couple of hours and another round later, they’re laid in bed under the sheet naked. Their legs are tangled and they’re facing each other resting cheeks on hands, talking.

“Y’always want to be a veterinary doctor?” Ian’s eyes dart over Mickey’s face.

Mickey shrugs but he looks thoughtful. “Always knew I wanted to do something with animals. Got outta juvie when I was fifteen and my probation officer was pretty decent. She managed to score me some work at an animal sanctuary. I like animals better than most people. Animals love you unconditionally, people are generally shit.”

“Tar and brush spring to mind?” Ian chuckles and Mickey just kicks him gently beneath the sheet, laughing. “Nah, I get what you mean though.” He thinks about the juvie comment, it reminds him of the Southside – he stores that thought away.

“Hey, there’s always a couple of exceptions right?” Mickey’s eyebrow raises cheekily.

“Oh yeah, can I class myself as one?” Ian grins, licking his lips as Mickey edges closer.

“Yeah I guess you can Gallagher.” Mickey presses his lips to the corner of Ian’s mouth first, holding them there for a few seconds before he slides across to kiss his lips properly. He slips his hand over the cool skin on Ian’s neck, kisses him again. He whispers. “Can you stay the night?”

Ian groans, pushing Mickey back gently to lean over him, kisses him again and again. “Mick, I’d love to but I gotta feed Tips. Didn’t leave him anything out before I came over.”

“Didn’t think you’d be so lucky, huh?” Mickey smiles up at him, Ian presses a kiss to his teeth.

“Well I was hoping.” Ian brushes a thumb across the soft skin under Mickey’s eyes. “I’d love to stay another time though. Rain check?”

Mickey nods, hand coming up to hold gently to Ian’s, pressing it against his face. “Course.” He looks thoughtful for a second, brow furrowed before he speaks again. “Can I walk you home though?”

“You want to walk me home?” Ian smiles, tilts his head. He thinks its sweet but he doesn’t say it out loud. 

“Yeah,” and Mickey is definitely blushing now. “Just want to spend some more time with you.”

“I’d love that.” Ian kisses him before sliding from the bed, ensuring that his entire body brushes Mickey’s on the way out, eliciting a groan from his lover. “C’mon Doctor, get that sexy ass out of bed. We’ve got some walking and hand holding to be doing. Figure Tips’ll be pleased to see you too.”

They dress around each other, probably wearing each other’s boxers but Ian doesn’t take his eyes off Mickey long enough to check. Mickey keeps reaching out to touch him, just fleeting touches but keeping the connection going. Mickey digs into his drawer for some sweatpants and a t-shirt before laughing at the look on Ian’s face.

“Not wearing the scrubs out of the clinic gingerbread.” He tugs the shirt over his head.

“Shame, they’re just the right side of tight.” Ian grins as they head out, grabbing shoes on the way. Mickey grabs the leash from by the door, whistles Porkchop over so he can join.

“Ah, all that staring every time you came over the clinic asking stupid questions makes sense now.” Mickey shuffles down the stairs trying not to trip over his excited dog. Ian leans over to take the leash from him, slips his free hand into Mickey’s.

Mickey smiles at the gesture, tightens his grip as they head back to Ian’s. The evening is mild enough that they’re not shivering and Ian watches happily, eyes flicking between Mickey at his side and Porkchop sniffing at everything he passes.

“Hey, what do you mean stupid questions?” Ian chuckles, shaking his head.

“Don’t even start, I saw right through you. So did everyone else by the way. Even old Mrs McCray saw through you. Next time she brought Jay in for his check-up, she asked if we were---” Mickey crinkles his nose up and Ian can’t help but stare “ _courting._ ”

“Courting?” Ian laughs heartily. “Yeah, maybe if this was 1922.”

“Ey, don’t knock it. This---” Mickey waves their joined hands together between them, “wouldn’t be happening.”

Ian presses a kiss to their conjoined hands, pulling a happy smile from Mickey. They’re pretty much at his apartment now and he’s confused for a moment when he sees a car in the middle of the road, stopped but at such an awkward angle it’s taking up space on both lanes, blocking traffic. 

Mickey seems to notice at the same time. “Hey what’s go---”

He stops short when they both see the driver jump out of the car and run to the front and it’s then that’s Ian’s whole heart drops from his chest and he can’t breathe. There in front of the car, laid still and unmoving is Tips.

“Tips.” He breathes the word so quietly, brain not registering anything for what feels like an eternity before it jumps into action. He drops the leash, he thinks somewhere in the back of his mind that Mickey lets his hand go because he doesn’t feel anything restraining him from running out into the road and falling to the ground by his still cat. 

“Tips! Oh God, Tips, Tips please.” He doesn’t know what he’s asking for, hands hovering over the still animal as he vaguely hears the driver babbling at him.

“I’m so sorry, the cat just came out of no-where! Chasing something or---I don’t know! I couldn’t stop in time, I’m so sorry.”

Ian’s ignoring them, only allowing himself to breathe when he hears the barest meow from Tips, though the cat’s eyes are closed. It’s then he notices the shadow of Mickey dropping down on the other side of his cat, Porkchop in his grip to stop him from sniffing at the limp animal on the ground.

“Ian, Ian I need you to listen to me.” Mickey sounds so calm and in control that Ian can’t help but do as he asks. He looks up at him, at those blue, blue eyes and he breathes more steadily. “OK, you need to pick Tips up as gently as you can. We need to get him as quickly but as safely to the clinic as we can make it, OK.”

Mickey waits, waits for Ian to nod his agreement. 

“OK, good. Scoop him up but be careful. Try not to move him too much. I’ve got Porkchop and we’re going straight to the clinic.”

“OK,” Ian breathes through his nose, slides his hands under Tips prone body. He lifts him and it elicits a pained cry from the cat in his arms. He winces, stands as steadily as he can on wobbly legs. He pulls his arms into his body, cradling his ward close. 

“OK, that’s good Ian. Let’s go now, let’s go.” Mickey says, Porkchop’s leash tight in one hand, other hand pressed to Ian’s back urging him forward.

The power walk to the clinic feels like it’s taking forever, Mickey guiding Ian every step of the way because Ian won’t look away from Tips. He can see shiny patches of dark fur and he just knows there’s blood, that there will be blood on his hands when he looks at them. Tips’ front leg is bent awkwardly and he’s so still, Ian starts to cry. 

“Mickey, Mickey please.” He whispers, letting out a soft sob.

“I know, I know Ian. I’ll do everything I can for him, we just need to get him to the clinic. We’re almost there.” Mickey sounds confident, as confident as he can and Ian takes comfort in that, letting himself be guided.

He hears Mickey on the phone, hears ‘Iggy’ and ‘accident’ and ‘clinic’ but he’s not really paying attention. Tips is so still. He’s been with Ian for so many years now, Ian loves him so much. He can’t lose him.

They get back to the clinic, head straight inside where Mickey immediately leads him to the back. They bypass the examination room, head straight into the bright, sterilised theatre prep area. Mickey stops him with a gentle hand on his arm, pulls over what looks like a mini gurney layered with that scratchy paper they make you lie on in hospitals.

“Put Tips down here Ian, as gentle as you can.” Mickey pats the gurney.

Ian gently rests Tips on it, hears the door open and Iggy ask what’s wrong, hears Mickey explain it to him. He thinks he hears Mandy gasp and he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from sobbing. He slides his hands out from under his cat and can’t help but stare at the streaks of blood on his fingers. He’s crying, he can’t help it, he’s crying hard now and he feels hands come up to grip his arms. 

“Ian, I’m going to take Tips now. I need to x-ray him and I’m probably going to need to operate. Iggy’s here, he’s going to help me. So I need you to go with Mandy. Go with Mandy and Porkchop, OK?” He looks up, finally looking properly at Mickey who looks blurry through his tears.

“Please Mickey, I can’t lose him.” He cries.

“I know Ian, I know sweetheart.” Mickey reaches a hand up at the endearment, wipes gentle fingers over his face to brush away the tears. “I’m going to do my best for him. I promise.” 

“Me too man, me too.” He hears Iggy pipe up from behind him, hears the rustle of robes and turns slightly to find Iggy donning a gown.

Mickey places a hand on his wet cheek, uses it to turn his face back as he leans up to kiss him then, just once, before he hands him over to Mandy.

“C’mon Ian, let Mickey work. We’ll get your hands washed, c’mon.” She’s speaking so softly as she ushers him out of the room. He looks back to watch Mickey tugging on a purple gown and shockingly white mask, pushing Tips into what he thinks is the x-ray room.

He turns to follow Mandy out, she leads him into the examination room and over to the sink. He manages to smile at her, breathing deeply as he tries to calm himself. Tips is in the best hands now. Mickey will do all he can for him, Ian knows that. He sticks his hands under the tap, cleans them off thoroughly.

“Cup of tea?” Mandy asks, biting her lip in that nervous way he’s seen Mickey do sometimes. 

“Yeah---” his voice is only a little croaky, “that sounds good Mandy.”

Ian wanders out to the waiting room, it’s quiet and empty and he doesn’t want to go see what’s happening in theatre. He just wants to try and calm down, be patient and wait for Mickey and Tips. Mandy comes out soon enough, tea in hand and gestures for him to take a seat in one of the plush chairs. She hands over a mug, blowing over her own to cool it.

“Laced it with a little whiskey, hope that’s OK.” She smiles.

“Yeah, thanks.” He holds the hot cup in both hands, letting the steam warm his face.

“Tips---” she starts, reaching out to squeeze Ian’s arm, “he’s in good hands Ian, Mickey’s an amazing vet.”

“I know, I just. I love him Mandy.” He sniffs before shrugging at her.

“Tips or Mickey?” She grins a little, obviously trying to lighten the mood. Ian shoves her, choking out a tiny laugh. 

“He’s been there for me for years. I don’t know what I’d do without him.” Ian blinks heavily, rubs a hand over his tired face.

“Y’know,” Mandy starts, gesturing with her mug towards the back, “when Mickey was a kid he found this cat hiding somewhere underneath all the junk in our front yard. Really scrawny thing, thought it was grey at first but it was just super dirty. He’ll never admit it but he fell in love with it at first sight, he was only like six or something.” Mandy smiles at the story, takes a sip of her tea so Ian does too. It warms his throat.

“The thing wouldn’t come anywhere near him,” she laughs “but every day, twice a day without fail he’d take it out something to eat, check on it. We didn’t have a lot of money, dad didn’t really give a shit about us, let alone a cat to be honest but my mom would help Mickey as much as she could, she could see how much he loved that cat. She gave him extra bits at breakfast, brought home scraps from the diner she worked at for him to give the cat. Eventually he managed to coax it in the house with a bit of soggy bacon and the thing never left. Mickey managed to get it in the shower one day though the cat was not pleased. Turns out, she was mostly white. Mickey called her Snow.”

Ian can’t help but smile at his imagination’s idea of a tiny Mickey chasing a cat around the house, trying to get it in the shower.

“What happened to Snow?” Ian asks, mind thankfully distracted.

Mandy’s face falls and she looks at him sadly. She shakes her head for a second, takes a minute before she answers. “Our dad was a fucking asshole. Came home so fucking drunk one day, Snow was just sat there minding her own business. He picked her up by the scruff of her neck, threw her so hard. She hit one of the kitchen beams, fell to the ground. She didn’t get up again.”

Ian watches as she swallows. He puts his arms over her shoulders, tugs her in to lean against him.

“I’m sorry Mandy.” He squeezes her shoulder.

“Mickey was devastated. Mom says she probably died on impact and we couldn’t afford to take her to a vet but Mickey… he pretended he didn’t care but I heard him crying for days. Told me he never wanted to see another animal again.”

“But the animal shelter? After juvie?” Ian raises an eyebrow. 

“He told you that?” She looks up at him smiling, obviously happy that Mickey had been sharing. “Yeah, he probably didn’t mention quite how much his PO had to talk him into it. Think he’s glad she did though.”

“So am I.” Ian nods in agreement.

“Mickey,” Mandy looks up at Ian now. “He’s got a lot of love to give you know? His hearts bigger than most, you just can’t see it that clearly from the outside.” 

Ian, though he hasn’t known him all that long, thinks he can see it. Thinks he can definitely see how much love Mickey’s capable of.

It’s then that the door to the back opens and Mickey comes out, mask around his chin and there’s spots of blood all over his gown. Ian sits up immediately, takes care to lower his tea mug to the ground and not drop it.

“Mickey…?” His eyes dart around Mickey’s sombre face.

“I’m---” He watches Mickey’s eyebrows furrow in what he thinks is sympathy but his vision is getting blurry again, and he hears the sob he lets out. “I’m sorry Ian but---”

Ian presses his hands to his face and cries.

_**Epilogue.**  
18 months later._

Ian feels like he’s been asleep for days but his body still doesn’t want to wake up. Not in a bad way, not in a way that would worry him normally but just in that way that means _I had a long shift yesterday and this bed is so comfy I may never want to leave it again._

He makes sure to keep his eyes shut, rolls from his back to his front and stretches his prone limbs. He feels and hears all the pops of his spine and he groans happily. His arm snakes out under the sheet across to the other side of the bed but it feels cool, empty.

He holds his breath, listens carefully. 

He can hear Porkchop shuffling about in the kitchen, can hear a pan hit the cooker and Mickey shushing the dog every time he whines for breakfast scraps. He grins against the bed, grabs the cool pillow next to him and pulls it to his body, hugs it as he presses his nose to it and breathes the scent of his boyfriend in fully. Mickey always smells so good, like sweat and Mickey and he can’t get enough, he presses his face into Mickey’s neck all the time only to get swatted at by a tattooed hand (but Mickey never pushes him away). 

They’ve been living together for eight months now and Ian can’t remember being happier. Mickey’s everything he could ask for and more. They love and they argue and they make up and they talk and they’re quiet and they’re loud but mostly they’re just together. 

And ridiculously in love.

Ian remembers that conversation with Mickey well. He’d been the first to say it, about 6 months in while they were sat watching a Van Damme film and Mickey had been griping about how over-rated he was. Ian had just been sat, looking at Mickey’s profile and it had slipped out. Mickey had looked at him, opened his mouth fish like a couple of times before he’d sighed. 

_‘Not everybody gets to just blurt out how they fuckin’ feel every minute.’_

_Ian had looked at him then, a little taken aback but didn’t say anything, waiting. He’d had the backstory from Mickey, he’d been told the stories about Terry and how Mickey had grown up and finally got out from under that shadow._

_It took a minute before Mickey continued ‘But,’ he’d turned to Ian then ‘I can, now. I’m free. What you and I have makes me free.’_

And Mickey had kissed him then, they’d made love on the couch and though he didn’t say it back, not then at least. Ian knew.

Besides, Mickey has said it plenty since then.

Ian hears the bedroom door creak open then, just a little. He can’t hear any footsteps which give the intruder away and he smiles, knowing who it is. He grins into the pillow, eyes still closed. He can play the waiting game. 

There’s a pregnant pause before a small weight lands on the bed in front of his stomach and he hears scratchy padding across the covers. Another few seconds and he feels _that_ persistent paw batting him on the cheek. He smiles, grips the paw pad between his fingers as he peeks his eyes open, adjusting quickly to the light streaming in the room. 

“Morning Tips.” He smiles, leaning up to kiss his cat.

Releasing his paw, Ian watches as Tips hops closer to him, snuggling into the warmth of his chest. Ian reaches his hand out to cradle him, rubbing his hand over where Tips’ left front leg used to be. Tips' ears flick happily, the tip of the left one missing and Ian kisses it.

That day when Mickey had come out of surgery, Ian had thought he’d lost his furry little companion. Mickey, thankfully, had other news.

_‘I’m sorry Ian but the car did quite a lot of damage. I’ve had to amputate one of Tips’ legs and he’s pretty battered and bruised. He had some internal bleeding which was my big worry, but I think I’ve managed to stem it. He came out of surgery OK though and I think if he makes it through the night, he should be alright.’_

Ian just remembers falling to the floor, so grateful that Mickey had managed to save his cat. Mickey had wrapped his arms around him then and Ian had held him, crying and mindless of the blood on his scrubs. They’d both sat with Tips overnight, watched him as he slowly came around and he cried at Ian - obviously telling him about the horrid day he’d had and _why was he wearing this cone around his neck and what has your boyfriend done to me and why did he hurt and could they go home and have treats please_ – and Ian had cried, laughing as Mickey translated all this cat talk for him. 

It had taken Tips some time to learn how to walk again on three legs and Mickey had joked that they should call him ‘Hops’ now but Ian was just happy.

“Love you Tips,” he whispers into the feline’s fur. 

He hears a soft laugh from the door, looks up to find Mickey in only his boxers and t-shirt (Ian loves him like this, all soft and rumpled in the morning) staring at the pair lovingly.

“Mornin’” Mickey smiles at them both, before walking over to the bed and settling down. He slides a slow hand over towards Tips, still careful after all this time even though Ian’s (traitorous, he thinks) cat loves Mickey. Mickey runs his gentle fingers over Tips' fur as the cat gives him a good morning lick for good measure.

“Morning Mick,” Ian leans up a little, angling for a kiss but not wanting to disturb the cat. Mickey leans down happily, slotting their lips together wetly. He pulls away before it can go too far and Ian groans. Mickey chuckles, tugging at his messy ginger bed hair.

“Didn’t slave over a hot stove for nothin’. How do you feel about breakfast in bed?” Mickey smiles, eyebrow raised.

“Breakfast in bed sounds fantastic, thank you love.” Ian runs his fingers down Mickeys’ face before his boyfriend gets up to go grab the food. 

“Love you Mick.”

“Love you too.” Mickey smiles softly over his shoulder.

“Let’s have breakfast as a family though, bring the other babies in!” Ian laughs.

Mickey shakes his head, he’s laughing though as he whistles at the bedroom door. Porkchop comes running in making a dive for the bed, startling Tips into a loud yowl. Firecrotch saunters in much more slowly, like breakfast with the family is the last thing on his agenda. He takes a seat on their desk chair and proceeds to stare out of the window, ignoring them. 

“Geez.” Mickey grins, shaking his head at his cat before he exits the room, shouting back. “Ey, I’m not bring the fucking fish though!”

Ian’s laugh makes the bed shake. His heart feels full.

**Author's Note:**

> There we have it! Please feel free to come chat on [tumblr](https://matchst-ck.tumblr.com/) (I have very little idea what to do with it, I'm fairly new at it!) but it has been a fun ride so far :)


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